Biggles and the Little Green God Page 2

  ‘If there is anything queer about this sort of thing I’m not prepared to believe that it is the fault of what, after all, is only a piece of mineral,’ Biggles said. ‘While the world produces villains who are actuated by a policy of wealth at any price, anything of great value is bound to cause trouble. It may be coincidence, but to me it’s a natural consequence. Has it been definitely established that this particular god is of oriental craftsmanship? I mean, is it, for instance, a representation of Buddha?’

  ‘No. That’s the only thing against this Burma theory. The idol, call it god if you like, for it is obviously something of the sort, is of no religion known today. It certainly isn’t any of the Chinese or Indian deities, Buddha, Brahma, Vishnu...’

  ‘Then it still isn’t known who or what the thing is or where it started its life?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  Biggles smiled faintly. ‘And now no one knows where it’s gone.’

  The Air Commodore made a wry face. ‘You’ve said it.’

  ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘It’s another story,’ the Air Commodore said. ‘Would you like to hear it?’

  ‘We might as well have the lot while we’re at it.’

  ‘All this talking is making me thirsty. Have a cup of coffee?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  The Air Commodore rang for a pot of coffee and two cups.

  * * *

  1 Black pearls, so called, are not actually black: usually a dark green.

  2 This notorious 44 carat diamond of a rare blue colour was long believed to bring misfortune to its owner. It was given by King Louis XVI of France to his queen, Marie Antoinette. Both died on the guillotine. In 1911 it was bought in Paris for £60,000 by a man named McLean. His son was killed shortly afterwards.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE AIR COMMODORE CONCLUDES

  WHEN the coffee had been brought the Air Commodore continued.

  ‘This particular work of art we’ve been talking about — because that’s what it is quite apart from the remarkable jewel that decorates its forehead — has been bought and sold several times since it was brought to light in the East End of London. Always the price paid has gone up, as would be only natural, I suppose, because the thing is unique. The purchaser has always been a private individual. Had it gone into a national museum somewhere no doubt it would have stayed there, safe and secure; but apparently the price it has fetched has been beyond what such institutions can afford to pay. The last time it was sold, by public auction at one of the leading London sale-rooms, it was knocked down for £75,000, which is pretty steep even for what is sometimes called a “collector’s” piece.’

  Biggles pursed his lips. ‘There must have been several bidders to send it up to that sort of figure.’

  ‘Actually, at the finish there were only two.’

  ‘Someone must have wanted it badly. Who got it at the finish?’

  ‘A South American multi-millionaire named Don Carlos Ricardo Pallimo who, as a point of detail, comes from Santiago, in Chile, where he owns a lot of land, although much of his business is abroad.’

  ‘Why would he want a thing like that?’

  ‘Heaven only knows, except that it’s a common thing for millionaires to become collectors of rare and therefore precious objects. What they want they can get. Perhaps they don’t know what else to do with their money.’

  ‘Vanity,’ sneered Biggles. ‘That’s really what it boils down to. They like to be able to swank they’ve got something nobody else can afford. Maybe they get a kick out of seeing themselves quoted in the newspapers as connoisseurs of art. However, that’s nothing to do with me. If that’s what they like it’s entirely their own affair. Well, what did Señor Pallimo do with his new baby; or rather, how did he come to lose it? If I had spent that sort of money on something to stick on a shelf in the parlour I’d take thundering good care nobody nicked it.’

  ‘He did his best,’ the Air Commodore said. ‘That’s where the mystery comes in. I don’t suppose it occurred to him that somebody might steal it. After all, what use is it? Like a valuable painting, a thief couldn’t sell it because if he tried it would instantly be recognized as stolen property.’

  ‘In this case the thief might do what the professional crooks do with this sort of swag. The ruby could be prised out of its setting and cut into smaller pieces.’

  ‘That would knock off most of its value. Besides you can’t recut a big ruby. It would fly to pieces. But let me continue the tale by telling you what Don Pallimo did, and I think you’ll agree he took all reasonable precautions against losing his new little treasure. He made arrangements for it to be flown home at once to his house in Santiago.’

  ‘How did he do that?’

  ‘He chartered an aircraft to take it.’

  Biggles stared. ‘Great grief! That must have set him back a pretty penny.’

  ‘Only in proportion to the value of the cargo.’

  ‘How nice to be a millionaire,’ murmured Biggles with a trace of sarcasm.

  ‘There’s no point in having unlimited money if you don’t enjoy the advantage it offers.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘When I said chartered I may have used the wrong word,’ corrected the Air Commodore. ‘It so happened that an aircraft, an eight-seater Caravana belonging to a Chilean air operating company was standing at London Airport. It had brought over a member of the Chilean Embassy and his family and was going back empty. Apparently Don Pallimo was able to make an arrangement with the company to take a parcel home for him. That wouldn’t be very difficult. Pallimo couldn’t go himself because he had some unfinished business in Europe. It seems he hadn’t much faith in the efficiency of the company because he engaged a man, actually a Chilean or a Peruvian, who wanted to go back to South America, to carry the package personally.’

  ‘The package being the idol, I suppose?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Was the thing insured?’

  ‘Naturally: with a London firm of insurance brokers.’

  ‘For how much?’

  ‘A hundred thousand pounds.’

  ‘The premium must have cost a bit.’

  ‘No doubt. But I don’t suppose Pallimo would mind that. Nothing could replace an object that is in fact irreplaceable. If the plane went down in the sea the god would be lost for ever, anyway.’

  ‘What sort of man is this Pallimo?’

  ‘I’ve never met him, but from all accounts he’s a gentleman in every sense of the word.’

  ‘Spanish, I presume.’

  ‘Of course. Or Spanish ancestry. He claims that a Pallimo was one of the conquistadores who were with Pizarro when he took that part of South America in 1531. That could be true, although I imagine the pure Spanish blood has got a little mixed with the native over the centuries. But let me finish. We now come to the part of the story that concerns us.’ The Air Commodore pushed forward the cigarette box. ‘The aircraft carrying the god left Heath Row about six weeks ago. It arrived safely at its first port of all, Buenos Aires, Argentina, and was checked and refuelled at the main international airport of Ezeiza. So far everything was in order. It then took off on the last leg of its journey to Santiago. That of course meant flying over the Andes. However, the weather was fine. The pilot had done the trip before and there appeared to be no reason why the machine should run into trouble. European and American air lines do the trip regularly.’

  ‘Are you saying it didn’t get through?’

  ‘The plane was never seen again. At all events, it didn’t arrive in Santiago.’

  ‘If it’s down in the mountains it’ll take a bit of finding. I suppose a search has been made for it?’

  ‘Of course. Nothing doing. And there’s no indication of what could have happened. The pilot was in touch with ground control for some time. Apparently all was well. Then signals suddenly stopped. The company that owns the plane, as well as machines of the Chilean Air Force, have made a thorough search, but a
ll report no trace. The search has now been called off.’

  ‘And that’s how things stand at the moment?’

  ‘Yes. Naturally, Don Pallimo is very upset.’

  ‘So must be the relatives of the missing crew, who can have no interest in a lump of carved jade,’ Biggles pointed out with a touch of asperity. ‘How many people were in the crew?’

  ‘Four. Two pilots, navigator who was also radio operator, and an air hostess. That doesn’t include the man carrying the parcel.’

  Biggles stubbed his cigarette. ‘Now suppose we come to the sixty-four thousand question. What has all this to do with us?’

  ‘We’ve been asked to do something about it.’

  Biggles nodded. ‘I had a feeling that was going to be the answer. Why ask us? If it was one of our machines that had gone west it would be a different matter. I can’t see that this has anything to do with us.’

  ‘You’re forgetting something. A London firm will have to fork out a little matter of a hundred thousand pounds in insurance. With the country short of cash you may be sure the government doesn’t take kindly to the idea of handing over so much British currency to a foreigner. Apart from that, Pallimo isn’t the sort of man to give up easily. Maybe that’s why he’s a millionaire. He has it in his head there’s been foul play somewhere.’

  ‘I imagine all he’s thinking about is his little green god. If he believes there’s been some crooked business he must have a reason for it.’

  ‘If that is so he hasn’t mentioned it.’

  ‘The Chilean government wouldn’t thank outsiders for poking their nose in.’

  ‘You needn’t worry about that. Pallimo could straighten that out if it arose. He’s an important man in his own country.’

  Biggles’ brow furrowed in a frown of surprise. His eyes asked a question which after a pause he put into words. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that I fly to South America and undertake a private search for an aircraft that might have lost itself anywhere between the Atlantic Ocean and the Pacific?’

  ‘It isn’t quite as bad as that. You may not find it necessary to go as far afield. I thought perhaps you might make a few inquiries nearer home; to start with, anyway.’

  ‘Such as where, for instance?’

  ‘That’s up to you. It isn’t so much the plane we’ve been asked to find. That, I agree, is no concern of ours.’

  ‘So it’s the little green god that’s cast its spell on everyone. Is that it?’

  ‘Frankly, yes. Or rather, it’s the sum of money that the country would be saved by its recovery. The insurance hasn’t been paid yet, pending further investigations. I may say that the insurance company has offered the usual reward of ten per cent, ten thousand pounds, for the safe return of the green masterpiece.’

  Biggles’ lips parted in a cynical smile. ‘Do I get the money if I find Old Joe?’

  ‘You know perfectly well that as a police officer you are not allowed to accept a reward for services rendered.’

  ‘Not exactly an inducement for me to stick my neck out by flying over three thousand miles of salt water and another couple of thousand of tropical jungle backed by the highest mountains in the world.’

  ‘You’re being awkward again,’ chided the Air Commodore.

  ‘Not without reason. You’re reckoning that if I get my teeth in this problem I won’t let go till I’ve got this one-eyed lump of mumbo-jumbo in the bag. Well, let me say I’m getting a bit weary of these do-or-die larks with nothing in the end.’

  ‘Be serious, Bigglesworth,’ complained the Air Commodore. ‘You might at least give some thought to the problem.’

  ‘I’ve done that already.’

  ‘And, if it isn’t a secret, what is your impression?’

  ‘The whole thing is cockeye.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘This is no ordinary theft, if in fact it is a theft. That sticks out a mile.’

  ‘I didn’t say it was a theft.’

  ‘That’s what Pallimo thinks.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Why should a man steal a thing which he must know perfectly well he couldn’t offer for sale without incriminating himself? What could he do with it? Keep it in a box under his bed and have an occasional quiet gloat? I can’t see a man in his right mind going to all the trouble and expense of getting it just for that.’

  ‘Come to the point.’

  ‘I fancy there’s more to this than anyone — except perhaps Pallimo — suspects. Somebody wanted this idol. Wanted it badly. Why? This person, who so far hasn’t appeared in the picture, could have been the man who pushed the price up to what Pallimo had to pay to get it. I imagine he tried to buy it. When that failed, presumably because he hadn’t as much money as Pallimo, he resorted to more desperate methods to get it.’

  ‘Are you implying that the disappearance of the aircraft carrying it was not a normal accident? Is that it?’

  ‘From such evidence as we have, that is what I suspect.’

  ‘What gives you that idea?’

  ‘It isn’t only my idea. It’s obviously what Pallimo thinks, otherwise why should he contemplate foul play? I have a notion that he knows more than he has divulged.’

  ‘He’s desperately anxious to recover his new toy. Why should he withhold any information that might lead to its recovery?’

  ‘That’s a question I can’t answer. And I fancy this thing is more than a toy. Unless I’ve missed my guess there’s some sinister influence at work; which doesn’t mean I’m superstitious. There could even be a political angle. Before I knock my pan out on this frolic I’d like to have a heart-to- heart chat with this Don Carlos Pallimo. I’d like to have a look at him, anyhow, to judge the sort of man he really is. Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know. I believe he’s on the Continent. They’ll know at the Chilean Embassy, where I understand he always leaves a forwarding address. They’ll know when he’s due back in London.’

  ‘In that case, before jumping into an aircraft and tearing to the other side of the world, I’ll drift along to the Embassy to get my clock set right for a start. Would you like me to do that?’

  ‘I’d be glad if you would. Handle the thing anyhow you like. I don’t want the Chief Commissioner to think we’re doing nothing about it.’

  Biggles got up. ‘Okay, sir. I’ll do that. I’ll let you know later if I unearth any dark secrets about this little green gentleman with a red eye.’

  ‘Do you really think there could be something criminal?’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. Having been around I know this. Anyone who starts fiddling about with a pagan god is asking for trouble, which could be a dose of poison or a poke in the ribs with a long sharp knife. Mad Carew tried it, and we know what happened to him. See you later, sir.’ Biggles went out.

  CHAPTER 4

  BIGGLES ASKS SOME QUESTIONS

  BEFORE leaving the building to begin his investigation Biggles looked into his own office to collect his hat and tell his assistant pilot on duty, Algy Lacey, what was afoot.

  ‘Before doing anything else I’m going to try to have a word with this millionaire-type, Pallimo,’ he concluded. ‘I’m hoping they’ll be able to tell me at the Chilean Embassy where he is and when he’s expected back in London. He may be co-operative or he may not. We shall see.’

  ‘And if he isn’t?’

  ‘He can go and look for his precious green god himself.’

  ‘Can I do anything?’

  ‘Yes. To save me time you might slip along to London Airport and find someone who helped to organize this Chilean aircraft, a Caravana, for its flight home. Check on the crew, for instance.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ promised Algy.

  ‘See you later.’ Biggles departed, and outside, to save parking complications, took a taxi to the Chilean Office in London. There, to his surprise and satisfaction, he learned that the man he wanted to interview had returned to England the previous day and was now occupying his usual suite at the Hot
el Grande, a Spanish-run establishment, in Mayfair. He went straight on to it, announced himself to the receptionist and stated his purpose in being there. Having waited for a few minutes while inquiries were made, he was informed that Don Pallimo would see him right away. A page escorted him to the room, knocked, and opened the door.

  Prepared to show his official identification papers Biggles went in and found the man he was anxious to interview standing by the window, smoking a long black cigar, waiting for him.

  Don Carlos Ricardo Pallimo looked much as might have been expected of a wealthy Spanish South American. He was a man of about sixty years of age, quietly but expensively dressed in an almost black suit with spotless white linen. He was not big, but carried his slight figure like an aristocrat, which presumably he was. Clean shaven and black-haired, he had a smooth flawless skin the colour of old ivory. His eyes were dark with a shrewd penetrating quality that indicated more than ordinary intelligence. His expression was one of calm self-assurance. He moved easily as he stepped forward to receive his visitor, waving aside the credentials Biggles proffered. When he spoke, in perfect English, his voice was quiet with hardly a trace of accent.

  ‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’ he inquired. ‘Please sit down.’ He indicated a chair.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ accepted Biggles. ‘I am a specialist in aviation matters from the Air Police department at Scotland Yard. I have been assigned the duty of investigating the disappearance of a valuable object, acquired by you in this country not long ago, which I understand was lost while en route by air from London to your home in South America.’

  ‘You have been correctly informed,’ said Don Pallimo. ‘I sent it home by special messenger. I suppose you know what, the object was?’